


Save Me

by HollyGoPossumlovesJ2



Series: Save Me Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Brother Feels, Brotherly Love, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Humor, Hurt Dean, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam, Hurt Sam Winchester, Queen- Save Me, Shower Sex, Smut, Witch Craft, mention of the effects of drug use, supernatural style humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 21:22:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10750080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyGoPossumlovesJ2/pseuds/HollyGoPossumlovesJ2
Summary: Dean hadn’t heard from her in years when he dialed her number. He was feeling dizzy, slumped on the floor, leaning against the island in the bunker kitchen.The metal against his back is as cold and lifeless as he feels. And to be honest, he was feeling strangely exhausted and detached from what he'd just done.You see, there's something wrong with Sammy.





	Save Me

**Author's Note:**

> I’m trying to get used to writing in third person again so I’m sorry if this is sloppy. Constructive criticism and comments are highly appreciated! 
> 
> This is based off a prompt given to me by @therealdeanwinchester13 from the super crafty “Writing Box Challenge.” Thanks for allowing me to participate! The prompt is, “On a scale of zero to Australia, how dangerous is it?” (So this is cross posted on Tumblr like all of my fics)
> 
> I referenced the song 'Save Me' by Queen and I recommend listening to it on Youtube so you can hear the tune.

Dean hadn’t heard from her in years when he dialed her number. He was feeling dizzy, slumped on the floor, leaning against the island in the bunker kitchen.

 

The metal against his back is as cold and lifeless as he feels. And to be honest, he was feeling strangely exhausted and detached from what he'd just done.

 

You see, there's something wrong with Sammy.

 

Dean's got him in demon lock down in the dungeon. He doesn't know how it happened. Sam is supposed to be warded against possessions of any kind.

 

They haven't been on a hunt in a couple of weeks, sticking close by to the bunker. They were getting on each other's nerves lately, but he could hardly qualify this.

 

But there he had been, a strange pink tint to the murderous gleam in his eyes when Dean returned from the bar tonight, right before he'd slammed a knife at Dean's face.

 

It had missed, of course, because Dean's no slouch. But it had struck land in the form of his upper thigh, frightening close to his family jewels.

 

That had settled it. Dean put the 'F' in fight and had managed to wrangle his psycho ass, possessed little brother where he's sitting right now.

 

He'd shut the door on the inhuman screams that were bellowing from his brother's mouth. 

 

Sam had glitched in and out like a bad connection, his eyes flashing staticky colors between pink, hazel and finally black.

 

One moment, he was concerned little brother, urging him to tend to his wounds. The next he was the warped, tormented version that sometimes haunted Dean's worst nightmares from hell.

 

That had even been after he'd tried an exorcism, holy water and salt. You name it, Dean tried it. No dice. 

 

He'd been two seconds away from swiping at his brother with the iron fire poker just to quiet the awful sounds, but he refrained.

 

When 'Sammy' spoke to him he sounded frightened. He would beg Dean to calm down and it tore at him because he sounded so damn sincere. Dean couldn't take it anymore, so he'd retreated like the coward he felt he was.

 

Then, he'd set to dialing all the numbers in his contact list, which if he were honest, weren't that many. Everyone he knew usually died right in front of him, so yeah, his list of people to call that were still breathing air were slim. 

 

Sam was the research snob, he'd be hitting the Internet and the books as soon as he'd stepped foot into the library. In fact, it wasn't a crazy thought that Sam already knew what this was and how to fix it. But, he was indisposed at the moment.

 

Dean felt incredibly alone and simultaneously frustrated with himself because, come on! He was Dean fucking Winchester! He should be able to handle this no problem.

 

He dialed the last number he'd wanted to.

 

"Hello?" She answered with that hunter's suspicious tone meant to intimidate anyone who had called into not doing it again.

 

"Y/N?" Dean asked, still feeling stupefied and a little fuzzy from the two beers he'd consumed at the bar. He was considering the refrigerator in front of him, knowing there were a few beers inside. It wasn't healthy, he knew that, but he was two steps away from freaking the fuck out.

 

"Uh... Yeah?" She prompted back, clearly still suspicious. "Who is this?"

 

"It's, uh... It's Dean. Dean Winchester? You helped us hunt down that dingo-werewolf hybrid a few years back." Dean cleared his throat in an attempt to pull himself together. Two beers shouldn't be enough to make his brain so slow, but it was. Maybe he'd had more than he thought? Y/N was his only hope of help right now. 

 

Mary, Donna and Jody were on some hunt together somewhere in Alaska. He couldn't say he begrudged them any.  It was cold as fuck in Alaska right now. He wouldn't want to face all that snow while trying to hunt down the abominable snow man. Claire and Alex were too young to get involved in this. So, they were out. 

 

"Oh yeah, hey Dean! I didn't recognize you because there was no unmanly shrieking of any kind. What's up?" Y/N's voice had completely transformed into something between sarcastically cheerful and concerned, if a little warbled. Must've been a bad connection, or that's what Dean told himself.

 

Dean spared her a chuckle then cleared his throat again, making an effort to enunciate clearly. "Hey, uh... Look, m'sorry to bother you, but I've exhausted all of m'contacts."

 

Cas was certain he was so close to tracking down Lucifer's baby momma. Coincidentally, Cas had also been strangely distant and said a few things that were hurtful and out of character. Dean assumed that the angel was just in a bad mood. So, after quizzing him on hypotheticals, he let him go without cluing him in.

 

"Nice to know I'm on the bottom of your list, Winchester." She quipped, not unkindly. "What's your issue? And **, on a scale of zero to Australia, how dangerous is it?** " 

 

She was never going to let that go. It was 5 years ago! "Nothin personal, sweetheart. Sam's possessed by something and I could really use some back up." Dean told himself that he hadn't sounded pitiful, but he was lying to himself, as usual.

 

Dean had always had a sweet spot for Y/N. And she'd never masked her attraction for him. So, naturally, aside from a few hook ups, he held her at arms length. But, he was closer to desperate than he had been in a while, feeling the panic beneath his skin like a living thing. It was getting worse the longer he sat there without a direction to start in. "It might be worse than Australia..."

 

~~~~~~~

 

_Australia was pretty bad for Dean. The dingo-werewolf had solidly kicked his ass, but he'd had problems the minute he arrived. However, if someone were to go with Sam's side of the story, his trouble started the moment they bought the airline tickets._

 

_Nobody was talking about Dean nearly giving away their cover while spying on a couple of teenagers from the local village._

 

_They were convinced that one of the kids were going to change into a were-dingo when a koala lost its grip on the tree above and fell onto his back. The claws didn't do nearly as much damage to him as the hit to Dean's pride because he nearly pissed himself._

 

_But, even before that, Dean had been a horrible human being. Like only Dean can be, all the way up until he'd boarded the flight that would take them to meet Y/N in Australia he'd been kind of a little bitch._

_After that, he was such a nervous wreck that halfway through the flight, an elderly woman had taken pity on him and offered him a high dose Xanax._

 

_Dean had been reluctant about the whole taking drugs from strangers thing. Sam was all for Dean being quiet for two freaking seconds, so fed up with Dean's shit that he'd basically crammed it down Dean's throat._

 

_Dean had managed to glare at him for almost 30 minutes before the medication finally started to work._

 

_"Hey S'mmy?"_

 

_"Yeah, Dean?" Sam had answered in an exhausted parent tone as he looked at something about the case on his tablet._

 

_“You ‘member that Queen song Dad n’ I used to sing t’you?” Dean's head was leaned back into his seat, leaving his neck open and vulnerable in a way that sober Dean would never do. “…started when you were ‘round two. You'd just start stripping your clothes off. Didn't matter where we were.”_

_Sam frowned, his eye brows scrunching in thought. “You're not talking about-?” But it was too late, Dean already had a simultaneously dopey and wicked gleam in his eyes._

_“Sam-my, SAM-my, Saaaa-mmyyy!” Dean belted at the top of his damn lungs and Sam tried to slam his hand over Dean's mouth but was sloppily dodged.  By now, he had everyone's attention. “I can't face this liiiife alooooone!”_

_“Jesus, Dean! They are gonna put you in lock down!” At this point, the annoyed little brother grimace and frazzled hair was so worth being tackled by a stewardess in Dean's intoxicated opinion._

_“Sam-my! SAM-my! Saaaam-my!” At this point Dean's rendition was beginning to dissolve into giggles. “I'm naked, and I'm far from hooo-ome!”_

 

_“Christ all mighty!” Sam huffed before pushing his brother’s head down onto his shoulder while slouching down as far into the seat as his long legs would allow. “Just go to fucking sleep like a normal person!”_

 

_Dean's hand fell heavy on Sam's chest, even as he continued to giggle intermittently against the soft flannel of his brother’s shirt. "You were a cute lil bugger, S'mmy."_

_“Good night, Dean.” Sam was both little brother indignant and nostalgic. He didn't know if he actually remembered this happening or if it was just from Dean's stories. However, he vividly remembered basking in Dean's attention as a child._

 

_Sam might feel extreme annoyance at his brother sometimes, but when he looked back at this moment he would cherish the childlike glee on Dean's face. Like, maybe that seemingly carefree jackass that had existed before hell, was still in there somewhere._

_The fondness would last exactly ten minutes and would be interrupted by Dean's warthog grade snores._

_However, aside from the rather large spot of drool on Sam's shirt and a few dirty looks, they both came away from the flight unscathed._

 

_They'd gotten settled in a hotel room after meeting up with Y/N and Dean was right back to being a colossal pain in the ass._

_Dean insisted on getting the flight germs off of him and immediately jumped in the shower._

_That left he and Y/N to compile the case notes without him._

_They were both elbow deep in research when a high pitched shriek, that could only be Dean, pierced through the bathroom door._

_By the time they were up and running, Dean had crashed through the doorway and landed in a soggy, cheap shower curtained heap._

 

_"Dean, what the hell?" Y/N was completely shell shocked, helping Sam untangle a completely uncooperative and soapy Dean from the shower curtain that he'd apparently taken out on his rapid exit from the shower._

 

_"Dean, what is it?" Sam was very concerned, his thoughts going back to that seemingly nice old lady sharing drugs on the plane. Had she given Dean something other than Xanax? Was he having some kind of reaction? Sam would never forgive himself._

 

_Sam reached into the bathroom to grab a towel when Dean latched onto his arm, sliding a couple of feet on his naked ass. "S- Sssp- Sppppi-"_

 

_Sam grabbed Dean's shoulder and helped him to stand, trying to ground him and get him to focus. Dean's expression wasn't registering anything but complete terror. "Dean, what the hell?"_

 

_Y/N was finding this all very worrisome and partially arousing considering Dean was there completely in the (glorious) nude._

_She watched the remaining suds on Dean's wet skin slide down the smooth, defined contours of his back to then glide over his very muscled ass._

_Oh, then there were those heavily toned thighs leading into those bowed legs. Holy shit, the guy was a walking sex dream. And if he would just turn a little to the right she would see what he was packing._

 

_"Sspider! Fucking spider!" Dean finally choked out when the tarantula had appeared in the bathroom doorway, successfully breaking the trance._

_Before Sam could blink, both Y/N and Dean found themselves standing on the bed, clinging to one another. They didn't take their eyes off of the spider, reflecting nothing but absolute fucking terror._

 

_Sam shook his head while he calmly retrieved a cup and a piece of paper. "And you call yourselves hunters."_

_Both hunters watched avidly, clutching arms and shoulders, as Sam collected the spider. "Did you guys want to say goodbye?" Before Sam even had the entire sentence out of his mouth they were backing away, pressing against the wall. It made Sam chuckle._

 

_"Fuck you, Sam!" Dean bellowed after him as he made his way to let the spider go outside. "Sleep with one eye open, asshole!" Once the threat had been cleared, he pulled his hands off Y/N's body like he'd been burned._

 

_Y/N grinned with a lot of teeth before she gave Dean's left ass cheek a good squeeze which made him to jump. "Sorry, sugar, I couldn't resist." She hopped off the bed and began gathering the strewn research, leaving Dean to grope his own ass cheek with a scandalized look in her direction._

 

_"Dean!" Sam huffed upon reentering the room, "Would you put some damn clothes on!"_

 

_That had been the humorous part. The not so humorous part was when Dean found himself in hand to hand combat with the ‘ugly’ and gleaned several deep gashes on his chest and thighs. They'd had to stay two more weeks before Dean was okay to travel again._

 

 

"Oh, that's not good. Not used to going it on your own anymore, huh? You still at that doomsday prep-er's dream in Kansas?" Her voice was whiskey smooth and strangely soothing, a southern lilt to it, just like he remembered.

 

"Yeah, we're still at the bunker. How far out are you?" Upon discovering the reason for his fuzziness, a small amount of panic managed to infuse his voice.

 

He couldn't even feel where Sam's knife had pierced the skin of his thigh. Why hadn't he bandaged it up at least? The deep red that was oozing down his thigh started to bubble and as he watched in fascination, it started to turn blue. What kind of goddamned blade would do that?

 

"...strangely enough, I just finished a haunting in the University of Kansas area. So, I'm probably an hour out." She paused waiting for him to answer, having a suspicion that Dean wasn't even really listening to her. "Dean?" There was no answer but Dean's ragged breathing and she was immediately on alert. "I could make it 30?"

 

"Yeah, I'll see you in thirty." Dean breathed out raggedly, ending the call abruptly and eyeing his blood saturated leg dubiously. How did he forget that he'd been stabbed in the leg? 

 

He eased himself off of the floor, using the island to lean on with a shaky grip. His injured leg spasmed and buckled beneath him. "Son of a bitch..."

 

He groaned as he slid to the ground like a bug spattered on a windshield. His heavy body denting the metal and causing all kinds of noise on his way down. There was nothing graceful about his fall. It wasn't long before his vision blurred, then darkened as he passed out.

 

"Hey sweet thangs, I'm home!" Y/N called into the bunker, her voice echoing strangely in the silence. She was rather impressed with herself because she'd made the drive in 20. "Guys?"

 

She crept through the war room on soft, practiced feet. The worn leather of her jacket barely making a noise as she shifted.

 

She was still vibrating with adrenaline, from the super charged bike ride over, as she drew the gun that was holstered on her side. The sound of the safety clicking off sounded terribly loud in the empty space.

 

Her steady breathing was the only sound she could hear as she weaved her way through the library, noting the evidence that there had been a struggle.

 

Some of Sam's beloved books were strewn from where they'd been sitting presumably on the table that was upended. 

 

She increased her speed as she investigated the bunker, feeling more and more worried as the search yielded nothing.

 

Just when she'd nearly given up the search upstairs, she found him. He was slouched uncomfortably against the kitchen island in an alarming puddle of blood.

 

"Dean?" His name rushed out in a whisper as she fell to her knees beside him, uncaring of the twinge of pain that the impact with the hard concrete floor caused. 

 

She grabbed a handful of his shirt to try and shake him to consciousness. "Hey!"  


Dean remained quiet, his eyes moving rapidly beneath fluttering eyelids.  Her heart felt like it was going to pound straight through her chest.

 

She'd seen Dean in bad shape before, but somehow he'd never seemed so vulnerable as he did now.

 

Immediately, she began damage control, grabbing a dish towel from the counter to press against the wound on his leg that was lazily oozing blood.

 

Dean didn't even flinch when she pressed down as hard as she could. Her eyes quickly swept over his entirety in search of any more injuries. Aside from the split skin on the apple of his cheek, she couldn't find any.

 

However, Dean's normally rosy complexion was pale, a gray tinge washing over his sweat damp cheeks.

 

He looked like death himself.

 

"Hey!" Feeling the panic beginning to rush to the surface, Y/N was a lot less gentle this time, smacking his face hard enough to leave a red mark. "Dean? Can you hear me?"

 

"Wha-?" He answered thickly, his eyes sliding open and searching the room like she wasn't crouched right in front of him.

 

“Hey, its Y/N.” It was a struggle to get him to make eye contact, but she ducked down to his eye line anyway.

 

"Y/N/N?" His voice was shaky as he finally focused his eyes slowly in her direction. His breathing picked up immediately as panic set in, going in and out in a loud whoosh as he continuously licked his lips. "Where-"

 

He acted very much like someone who'd taken a hit to the head. Maybe this fight had landed Dean with a concussion?  


"Hey, its ok. I need to get you off this floor, okay?" She waited a long moment before he graced her with a nod of approval for her plan.

 

At first she tried to pull him up by his arm, hoping instinct alone would help him to walk but she was wrong. All it really affected was some grunting and an awkward body position that reminded her of couple’s yoga.

 

"Gotta work with me Dean."

 

"Thirsty." He rasped out, his chest heaving as if he were out of breath. His body was moving like there were no bones holding his body together.

 

"I'll get you a drink as soon as we get you on the couch." _If I can move after this_ , she thought to herself.

 

Dean was no light weight. She felt the strain in every inch of muscle in her body, but she'd be damned if she left him here on the floor.

 

His knees refused to hold him and Dean nearly dragged her back to the floor with him. It didn't help that her shoes were sliding in the small puddle of blood Dean had left. 

 

Moving Dean by herself had the potential to injure them both, she knew that. However, the cold concrete floor had already leached precious body heat from him. At the very least the man needed some blankets.

 

The way her grip slipped against his cold, sweating skin worried her even further.

 

 "Okay." She huffed, formulating another plan while holding his body tightly against her. Dean's only response was to grunt against the skin of her neck as he let her have his entire weight.  


It took a lot of labored breathing, a blanket, several creative curse words and all of her acquired strength since she'd become a hunter to haul his ass up onto the closest couch. He wasn't fat by any means. He was just solid fucking muscle.

 

Dean was barely cooperative and said even less. It would be comical later, how she'd had to stand on the couch cushions to lever him up beneath his arm pits, praying that her back wouldn't choose now to give out. They weren't youngsters anymore, after all.

  


"What tha' fuck?" Dean breathed out, sinking into the couch cushions like he couldn't hold himself up. His eyes squinting in Y/N's general direction, his pupils still heavily dilated.

  


"You tell me." She grumbled back, giving him a quick look over again to make sure Dean wasn't further neglecting himself. So far so good.

  


Dean was trying valiantly to look peeved by his situation, but Y/N could read the worry there loud and clear. He tried to form a response, but gave up on that quickly and chewed his bottom lip instead.

  


While considering the predicament she found herself in further, she grabbed blankets from the closest bedroom, with one more stop in the kitchen to get him water.

 

In less than the minute she was gone, Dean had passed out again, and it was kind of a relief. After watching how the worry wiped from his face when he was unconscious, she decided to leave him like that until she could figure out what to do.

 

She wiped the sweat that was beading up on his forehead and cheeks away with tenderness before tucking the blankets around him. She'd tried so hard not to, but she had so much love for the stubborn bastard.

  


She allowed herself to study him for just a moment more, "What have you gotten yourself into, Winchester." And if she pushed the sweat matted hair from his forehead, there was no one there to witness it.

  


After crudely bandaging his thigh, she went in search of Sam, hoping that she would find him cognizant and able to explain. However, nerves kept her on the other side of the dungeon door for longer than she'd like to admit, a white knuckled grip on a silver knife and a flask of holy water. 

  


"Sam?" She called uncertainly, giving the heavy door a shove with her hip. She held the knife ahead of her as she slowly entered the dark, musty room they called the dungeon.

  


"Y/N, is that you?" Sam bit out, his voice disbelieving as he jerked in futility against his confines. 

  


She found that he was bound pretty heavily to a chair in the middle of a devils trap. His brother's knots were inescapable without a knife, but that hadn't stopped him from trying. The evidence was obvious in the bright red marks that would probably bruise in a few hours on his wrist.

  


"Holy shit it is you. Thank God." He watched her approach him like he was a monster she might have to dispatch. She was clutching hard to the knife and holy water in her grasp. "It's okay, Y/N, you can test me." He murmured in a calming tone only Sam was capable of, even though the anxiety of being tied up was really getting to him.

  


She wordlessly raked the knife over the skin of his arm and Sam only flinched a little at the initial cut. Then, she doused his face with holy water, bitting her lip in sympathy at Sam's look of indignity. 

  


"Sorry, Sam. I had to be sure... What happened to your brother?" She quizzed before setting to the task of cutting through his bindings once she was sure that Sam was in fact not a demon.

  


"I don't know. I waited for him to get back from the bar so I could talk to him about a case..." Sam massaged blood flow back into his hands as they were set free.  "He looked fine. He was rummaging in the fridge for a beer, I guess..." Sam tested out his feet as he stood up while Y/N stood by. "I guess I startled him and he attacked. Somehow he grabbed a knife. He was aiming for me, but I dodged in time and I guess he just stabbed himself." Sam shook his head as if trying to dispel a bad thought, "He can't have just been drunk, Y/N, he was so much stronger than normal..."

  


"That must be what the wound on his thigh is from..." Y/N pitched in, easing Sam's arm over her shoulder to help him keep balance. Apparently Dean had gotten some good licks in too, but so far nothing looked severe as she helped him navigate to the den. "I bandaged it up. I don't think it's too deep, just bled like a stuck pig."

  


"He was aiming for me, but his aim was off and he got himself instead. It's almost like... but he wouldn't take anything..." Sam's voice faded away in thought when they entered the common room, he took stock of his brother still passed out on the couch.

  


Y/N didn't want to say it and it seemed unlikely that someone would get the jump on Dean in that way, but unfortunately it really could happen to anyone. "Do you think he was drugged?"

  


"It's either that or it's one hell of a hex. Y/N, he was out of his damn mind." It was no surprise to Y/N, despite having been attacked by Dean, that Sam was just as worried about his brother as ever. She could see the same anxiety of not having his brother 100% as she'd seen in the past.

  


It made her worry about how many hits the Winchester's had taken. How many could they still manage to take? Their life had always been filled with trouble and chaos and she could tell that it had taken its toll. These weren't the same guys that she'd travelled to Australia with.

  


After Y/N did a more thorough check over Sam and still found no major injuries, they decided to take shifts keeping an eye on Dean. 

  


After taking his temperature, they discovered that his temperature was a little low. So, they carefully tucked more blankets around him. To Y/N, Dean looked like a little kid with the covers tucked up to his chin.

 

Sam took the first shift to watch over his brother and after tossing and turning for a while Y/N decided to go investigate the bar.

  


When Sam tried to argue, she pointed out that she was the only one that had never been there before. So, hoping that the person behind the bar had a taste for what she had to offer, she slid into her leather cat suit that she wore while riding her bike and headed out.

  


There were still a few patrons when she arrived at the local dive bar, but not many due to the early hour of 1am. She put all her effort into looking alluring. She wasn't conceited, but she was a firm believer in working with what you had. She knew that she had a toned figure that men loved and women envied, so she put a sway in her step and worked it to her advantage.

  


She sauntered up to the worn, wooden counter to order a beer, surreptitiously taking in her surroundings. There were a couple of older men sitting on the bar stools that paused mid story, the bartender looking thankful for the interruption, to eye her up and down. Probably regulars. 

  


There were four middle aged men playing a rowdy game of pool to her left. They didn't seem to have noticed her entrance as they cajoled and slapped each other on the back. It was clear by their sloppy movements that they were drunk. They were probably of no help to her, so she didn't waste her energy on them.

  


"What can I get for you, pretty lady?" She noted that the bartender wasn't an unattractive man. He was blessed with striking blue eyes, jet black hair and a bashfully beautiful smile. The muscles beneath his t shirt with the bar logo on it bunched and stretched the fabric at his arms and shoulders. She assumed the muscles were probably necessary in keeping misbehaving bar patrons in line.

  


He purposefully strode over to the beer cooler to retrieve the Blue Moon she'd ordered and she took a moment to also observe his well toned ass. Hey, so she had a type and needs just like the rest of the red blooded American hunters! She gave him an appreciative smile that he returned when he placed the beer in front of her.

  


She steeled her resolve, putting all of her energy into being someone else. She was excellent at putting on different masks for her job. "How's your night been? Anything entertaining?" She flashed him a flirty smile before she made a show of putting her mouth to the bottle and taking a generous pull. She found the attention he paid to the gesture very satisfying.

  


"Other than a pretty thing like you showing up in a back woods bar, nothing special." His forward behavior would be off putting if it weren't for the self deprecating smile that followed his statement. Yeah, she had a type. "You got a bike or is that suit just for show?"

  


"Yeah, I have a Kawasaki street bike. The suits actually practical. That way there a layer between me and the rode if I drop it." She eyed him carefully, formulating her next move, watching him as he watched her back.

  


"Wouldn't want to harm that fine packaging, would we?" One of the older men offered, eyeing her lecherously. She wasn't concerned, confident that she could take him if things got out of hand. So she offered him a simple smile in return.

  


"Pipe down, Norman and drink your beer. Don't chase her off like the red head earlier." The bartender quipped, eyeing the older man until he turned his attention back to the news that was on the television. "Sorry about him. He's harmless though." He cleared us throat, "Can I get you anything else?"

  


"Actually, I was wondering if you might help me out with something?" She pulled her phone from a back pocket, selecting a picture of Dean, and showing it to him. It was an old picture of the three of them, drunk at a bar in Brisbane, Australia. "Did this guy come into the bar tonight?"

  


He nodded immediately, "Yeah, he comes in almost every other night. He disappears for weeks at a time, but he always shows up eventually." His intel seems accurate enough so she proceeded with her next question.

  


"Did anything seem unusual about him tonight?" She rested her phone down to take a normal swallow of beer, pleasantly finding that he paid just as much as he did the first time.

  


He shook his head as if dispelling a thought, "No not really." Thankfully, he still looked like he was reviewing his night, so she didn't start to worry yet.

 

She let him take his time as she surveyed the room again out of habit. It felt wrong to her to spend long amounts of time with her back to the rest of the people in here.

 

“Well, he did leave a lot earlier than he normally does. The drink he left unfinished was for free, so maybe he didn't feel like he had to finish it? It was a shame too. It was top shelf whiskey, and the older woman who bought it for him wasn't unattractive either. She was just a tiny thing but a little older. A real cougar."

  


"Does he get free drinks often?" She prompted, knowing that unless Dean got called back for an emergency, there was no way he'd leave high quality, free booze to waste.

  


"He uh..." He paused a second, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "You a cop or something?"

  


She tried for a comforting smile, "No, I'm just his girlfriend. I think he might be cheating on me, so I decided to check it out." Lying through her teeth had become so much second nature that she didn't even feel bad anymore.

  


He nodded, a strange look on his face. When she figured it out, she smiled. Dean probably picked up women in this bar all the time, and she decided to use his sympathy to her advantage.

 

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but..." He paused, probably contemplating if he wanted to alienate the unspoken man code to stay out each other's business. "I don't want to be a snitch, but he's been known to chase a little tail around here."

 

She put some effort into looking stricken, widening her eyes in feigned shock. "Did he leave with someone tonight?"

 

"I don't know. He did leave pretty quickly after the lady who bought the drink did. They may have met up outside. I don't know for sure." He shrugged, grabbing a cloth from beneath the bar and he began to wipe down the already clean surface. The bar was probably closing up soon, so she hurried to ask her questions.

 

"Can you give me any more details about her?" She tried to channel a scorned girlfriend, which honestly, wasn't all that hard. She'd been in that head space before. 

 

"Yeah, like I said, bright red hair... Maybe an Irish rogue. She paid in cash..." He grimaced, "I'm sorry I don't have much to offer."

 

"No, you've been a big help. Thanks." Y/N slid off of the stool, leaving a generous tip beneath her emptied bottle. She might stop by here on her way out to try to piece her inevitably broken heart back together.

 

~~~~~

 

"It's Rowena." Y/N announced on her way into the common room. Dean was sitting up with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, clutching a mug of something warm like it was a life line. "Hey, you, how do you feel?" She took a seat next to him while Sam pulled out his phone, bitch face firmly in place.

 

Sam gave a nod of acknowledgement, stood up and stalked off, but they still heard Sam's perturbed voice. "Rowena, what the hell did you give my brother!"

 

She couldn't stifle the laugh that bubbled up, feeling the tension fall from her bones with relief that Dean was awake and mostly unharmed.

 

 She didn't want to investigate those feelings too closely. If she did, she'd send all of the feelings she had for this man tumbling out of the deep, dark box she stuffed them in.

 

She'd had an obvious chemistry with the man, but Dean hadn't been looking for more than a roll in the hay. He had Sam to watch his six and he wasn't in the running for another liability to add to his life.

 

Y/N, of course, understood the logical need to keep people at arms length in the hunting world. However, she had a hard time convincing her heart of that point.

 

"I'm uh..." he trailed off, eyeing the cat suit that she was still wearing. He decided it was probably on purpose. She was always torturing him and making him second guess his resolve. "I've been better." He looked down into his mug, that upon closer inspection revealed it to be coffee. "Uh, thanks for... you know." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Thanks for showing up."

 

They both looked up when Sam came back into the room, a rope of tension set in his shoulders. He was obviously pissed. "She said it was just a spell that mimicked LSD and that it should be wearing off now."

 

Y/N could hear the red headed witch, with her thick accent, like she was standing right next to her. "It was just a wee little spell. I was bored. Honestly, Samuel, you're no fun!"

 

There was a tense moment as both Dean and Sam fumed at being taken advantage by Rowena, again. The heavy climate of their world couldn't afford for these little set backs. Especially in the form of a naughty, bored witch!

 

Dean stood up gingerly and Y/N noticed that Sam must have stitched Dean up while she'd been investigating the bar. The second thing she noticed was that he was only wearing a black pair of boxer briefs and she blushed automatically.

 

The black fabric stretched over his beautiful thighs and generous cock perfectly. The color was a perfect contrast to his pale, freckles skin. Fuck, maybe she should've just given a status report from the bar.

 

"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm beat. I'm gonna take a quick shower and sleep for a week." Dean joked through the stinging pain in his leg as he tried futilely not to limp.

 

"Yeah, sleep sounds pretty good right about now." Sam stood up gracefully on his long, denim covered legs and turned his attention to Y/N after Dean had hobbled around the corner. "You should stay. We've got plenty of room and we'll go grab breakfast or something later so we can thank you properly."

 

The sincere puppy dog eyes nailed Y/N right in the heart, making her reconsider her decision to spare her heart the trouble and leave. "You don't need to thank me, Sam. I was in the area, but I am beat, so..."

 

Sam's dimpled smile at her compliance to stay closed the door completely on anything else she was thinking. He showed her to a room with just a bed and a desk, simply panted blue walls but enticingly clean sheets. After making sure she was comfortable, he checked on his brother's progress and closed himself in his room for the night.

 

No matter how hard she tried to, Y/N didn't stay put. She found the shower room easily, discovering that Dean was already in the shower.

 

Steam poured out in waves, fogging up the mirror so she couldn't see her reflection and talk herself out of it.

 

She pulled off her clothes, leaving them in a pile, before she slipped into the humid air of the shower. Despite being injured, Dean was still a sight to behold.

 

If anything, Dean had grown even more attractive as he'd aged. There wasn't an ounce of fat on those thighs and she longed to leave her marks all over the tight muscles.

 

As if she were going slow enough to savor, she wrapped her arms around his middle, her palms flat against his soft stomach before she pulled him closer. She let her fingers trail tenderly over the scarred remnants of the hunt that had brought them together for the first time.

 

Four, inch wide gashes were the only souvenir he'd brought back from down under. Her hands then followed the length of his scars as they traveled up his rib cage.

 

Then, like she was luxuriating in the feel of supple leather, seemed to fixate on his firm pectorals. He flexed them and enjoyed the full body shiver he could feel through her chest as she pressed into his back.

 

"Well, hey there, Sweetheart." Dean practically rumbled in appreciation. The second he felt her hands on his skin he felt the familiar desire for her like fire searing through his veins.

 

This was what he had been trying to avoid, unwilling to lead her on but unable to stop her. She was irresistible and that was why he'd just let her walk away after Australia. 

 

They had grown close after he'd been attacked by the were-dingo... wingo... dingowolf? Whatever it was that they had named the hybrid that lacked any and all humanity. It had wasted no time in confirming what an asshole it could be by ripping into his skin.

 

However, Dean didn't think of himself as marred or damaged. Sure, on the inside he was a wreck, but he wore his scars like badges of honor. He had earned every millimeter of the scars that Y/N was methodically paying attention to. 

 

Being stuck in Australia had been a confusing time for him. She had helped Sam redress his wounds, kept him clean, brought him good food to eat.

 

In that time, Dean had discovered that Y/N was the whole package. She was smart, funny, resourceful. She was beautiful in an exotic way with a quick wit. She was someone that, if Dean hadn't been saddled with the baggage he was, he wouldn't have let her out of his sight.

 

Instead of sending her away like his gut was telling him to do, he savored the way her hands explored his body and how it responded readily to her touch. How her soft, wet hands felt as they smoothed down his hips to squeeze his thighs. He felt her warm lips and tongue lightly kissing and sucking the water that had beaded up on his shoulder and shivered.

 

He had the urge to spin around and push her into the wall. To forcefully plunder her mouth until she was breathless. But he resisted, letting the need build and build until he might snap.

 

It was the last straw when she'd finally slid her hand over his cock. It was so hard with anticipation it ached, blood red and leaking from the tip.

 

He savored it as she stroked him a few times with a grip that was just on the not tight enough side. She was teasing him as helpless moans were bitten off in the back of his throat.

 

When she leaned in close so that he could feel her soft breasts, it broke his resolve. He had to touch her. He had to taste her. An impersonal hand job wasn't going to cut it. What little resolve he'd had failed him completely.

 

He turned quickly, his mouth finding hers as his hands slipped down her ass to the backs of her thighs.

 

She went right along with it as he lifted her up, her legs not hesitating to wrap around him. The extra weight pulled at his stitches, but he wouldn't trade the feeling of her body against his like this for anything.

 

He pushed heavily against her, the moan from her mouth vibrating in his and causing his dick to pulse nearly painful.

 

“Fuck-!” He ground out the word through his clenched teeth as they grazed against the delicate skin of her collarbone. It'd been too long since he'd been with her. With the way she pushed back against him, he could tell this wasn't going to last long.

 

“Yeah, please?” She asked in a voice that was permeated with a want that he recognized in his bones.

 

“Yeah,” he breathed out, his voice shot through with gravel as he slid a hand up her back to steady her before he slid inside her heat.

 

It was simultaneously pure pleasure and deep pain when he finally pushed inside. She felt like home and desire and everything he'd ever allowed himself to fantasize about.

 

He pressed impossibly closer, pushing her entire back into the cool tiles behind her. Dean tucked his face down to kiss along her neck as he tried to concentrate on the hot spray of water beating heavily against his back.

 

He thought of anything to stave off the orgasm he could already feel building from the base of his spine.

 

“Shit!” He cussed his frustration into her skin, his grip tight on her body as he felt himself tremble more on every slick slide against her skin. On every thrust. “Touch yourself.” He commanded, desperate to feel the tight squeeze of her body around him. He wanted her to drag his orgasm out of him, to milk everything so he had nothing left to give.

 

Her bitten off moan echoed off of the tiles and his eyes slammed shut as he felt her hand slide between them to do as he instructed.

 

Her free hand urged him to untuck his head and he unwittingly followed her lead as she guided his forehead against hers.

 

He could feel her steam mingled breath against his face, her panted breaths driving him closer.

 

She squeezed the back of his neck, her voice a breathy command. “Look at me, Dean.”

 

He was helpless to deny the desperate request as he struggled to keep his feet in the shower stall, his breath hitching in his chest.

 

He felt the minute that she let go, felt her tighten and spasm around him as he struggled to thrust few more times. He watched her y/c/e eyes widen with pleasure as her orgasm crashed over her.

 

He felt it mirrored on his face, the way his eyes watered a little with the force of the release that she dragged out of him. There were embarrassing noises escaping his open mouth but he was helpless against them. He was unable to keep his eyes off of her.

 

He felt like he was pulsing what was left of his life force into her, his body shaking with the effort of keeping his precarious footing.

 

He’d let her slowly slide down to her feet, as he tried to control the residual quiver to his thighs.

 

Dean had helped her to rinse off in the warm spray of the shower. Had silently watched her get dressed like the building was on fire while every move she made felt like a punched to the face. But he was unable to make himself stop her. He couldn’t tell her how he felt because he couldn’t tell her to stay.

However, he was surprised at how much it hurt to find the bed she should’ve slept in the night before untouched and empty. The temperature of the room seemed to drop ten degrees when he let himself sag down into the desk chair with his head in his hands.

This was for the best, he thought, because if she wasn’t with him he couldn’t get her killed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
